As the trio approached the Founding Farmers restaurant, Christina bid her friends farewell. "See you guys later," she said with a smile. "I should probably head back home before my father decides to deploy the Avengers to come find me."
Rachael and Stefan nodded, familiar with her penchant for dramatic flair.
"Tell my brother, when you reach him, that everything is fine here and he shouldn't worry about our parents," Rachael told her.
Christina nodded vigorously, her ponytail bobbing up and down, before she turned and disappeared into the crowd on the nearby street.
Rachael and Stefan watched as she vanished from view, before Stefan glanced at Rachael, shrugging. "I think it's safe to say there's nothing more for me to do at your house," he said, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. "Your mom seeing me now would be a recipe for disaster."
Rachael smirked, her eyes rolling good-naturedly. "Whatever!" she exclaimed, before turning to cross the road to make her way toward the nearest bus stop.
Stefan's eyes followed her as she walked away, before he called out, "Hey, wait for me! We're heading in the same direction!"
Meanwhile, Christina continued on her way, her senses heightened as she navigated the familiar streets. As she walked, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.
She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the crowds, and noticed three people in hoodies following her from a distance. Although she couldn't make out their features, Christina's instincts told her that they might be the neighborhood thugs she had heard rumors about.
Her fear intensified, and her legs instinctively propelled her into a sprint, hoping to lose them as she cut a corner.
She stopped after a while, and she darted a nervous glance over her shoulder. Her anxiety spiked as she saw the three individuals she thought she'd lost, closing in on her.
The distance between them was rapidly reducing, and Christina's breath came in short, panicked gasps.
As she turned her attention back to the path ahead, her heart sank. Two more figures had emerged from the shadows, effectively blocking her escape route. A chill ran down her spine as she frantically scanned her surroundings, realizing with a growing sense of dread that she was trapped in a deserted area with no apparent witnesses to her plight.
With her options dwindling, Christina summoned a surge of courage and attempted to reason with her pursuers.
"What do you want?" she shouted at the top of her lungs, hoping against hope that someone might hear her cry for help and intervene.
"Give us some cash, princess," one of the thugs replied, his voice filled with sarcasm as he mimicked Christina's pitch. Christina hesitated for a moment before slowly reaching into her pocket and extracting a crumpled ten-dollar note. She held it out to the thugs, who were now closing in on her from all sides.
"This is all I have with me," she explained. "I was going to use it to board a cab, but since you asked... Can I go now?" She attempted to sound calm and confident, but she wasn't good enough
The apparent leader of the group, a young man with curly hair and a goatee, his face twisted in a scowl, took a step closer to her. "You look rich, princess," he sneered. "Yet you're offering us a measly ten dollars. What are we supposed to do with that? We're not beggars!"
Christina shot a withering glance at the thugs' leader. "Then what are you if not a beggar?" she spat. "That's all I have, take it or leave it!"
The thugs' leader's face turned beet red with rage, and he raised his hand to strike Christina, who threw up her hands to her face in fear.
However, instead of following through with the blow, the thugs' leader paused, his gaze roving over Christina's curvaceous figure. A sly grin spread across his face as he grunted. "You can offer us something else, by the way," he said.
Christina's eyes snapped open, and she dropped her hands, composing herself. "What do you want?" she grumbled.
The thugs' leader reached out and grasped Christina's shoulder, his fingers running up toward her cleavage. A lecherous glint appeared in his eye as he licked his lips.
"Give us a taste of your body, and we promise to be gentle with you," he said and turned to his cohorts, who were grinning from ear to ear. "Right, guys?"
The rest of the group nodded enthusiastically, and just as the thugs' leader was about to turn back to Christina, he was met with a deafening slap that sent him stumbling backward.
"How dare you try to harass and take advantage of me!?" she thundered.
The thugs' leader's cohorts rushed to his side, attempting to assist him as he struggled to regain his composure. However, their leader's anger and humiliation proved to be a potent catalyst, fueling his rage and causing him to lash out.
Clutching his ringing ears, he took a menacing step forward, his unsteady gait betraying his efforts to maintain control. "I'm going to fucking kill you, bitch!" he bellowed, his voice barely audible to his ears due to the ringing.
Christina instinctively recoiled as the thugs began to close in on her, their movements imbued with an unnerving intensity.
"You may not know this, guys, but I learned taekwondo in junior high school!" she shouted in a desperate bid to defuse the situation, hoping that the subtle threat would give the thugs pause and cause them to reconsider their actions.
However, her words seemed to have little effect, as the thugs continued to advance on her with an air of menace.
"I also learned karate in elementary," one of the thugs said. "Should we try our skills in bed?"
The thugs' leader reached out and grabbed Christina, delivering a vicious slap across her face. But Christina refused to back down, retaliating with a resounding slap of her own that sent the hin stumbling backward again.
Clutching his left ear, he shook his head violently, attempting to clear the ringing and regain his hearing.
The rest of the thugs seized the opportunity to immobilize Christina, pinning her arms behind her back and holding her in place. Their leader, still reeling from the slap, regarded Christina with a mixture of bafflement and growing anger.
"I love it when women play hard to get," the thugs' leader said, a malevolent grin spreading across his face as he stormed toward Christina, his hand raised to deliver another blow.
Christina's voice echoed through the alleyway as she let out a loud, deafening scream. The sound of her scream was abruptly followed by a firm, authoritative voice that seemed to come out of nowhere.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you!" the voice commanded, momentarily halting the chaos that had erupted.
As everyone turned to face the newcomer, their eyes landed on a tall, imposing figure clad in a crisp suit, his bald head gleaming in the faint light of the alleyway.
He wore sunglasses, which added to his enigmatic presence, and his movements exuded a sense of purpose and confidence. Christina's eyes narrowed as she tried to place the man, but his features seemed familiar yet elusive, like a memory that refused to surface.
Still, she had a nagging feeling that she had seen him before, perhaps in the context of her father's business.
"You're all in trouble today, my father doesn't joke with me," Christina whispered, a wide, relieved grin appearing on her pale face.
She felt a surge of confidence, assuming that the mysterious man must be one of her father's employees, sent to keep an eye on her.
The thugs, however, were not intimidated by the newcomer. One of them, fueled by bravado, snapped at the man, "I'd advise you to mind your fucking business, bald man!"
As he approached the man, he was swiftly and effortlessly flung away by a single swipe of the man's hand.
The bald man finally reached Christina's side, and he turned to face the rest of the thugs, staring at them in both wonder and anger.
"I'd advise you to leave while I'm asking nicely," he warned.
The thugs' leader, undaunted by the man's warning, turned to his cohorts and nodded, granting them permission to attack.
The thugs, fueled by a mix of adrenaline and desperation, grabbed whatever objects they could find in the alleyway – broken bottles, wooden planks, and trash can lids – and charged relentlessly at the man, their movements wild and unpredictable.